“For a while,” I reply, smiling for the first time in what feels like ages.
The fog that’s choked me for weeks is lifting. For the first time, there’s a crack in the gloom, a single thread of light cutting through. I have purpose. I have drive.
We stop for ginger ale and head home. Tish throws together a salad while I force myself to eat. It stays down, which feels like a small miracle. We clear the dishes and crash on the couch. I grab my laptop and open it, the familiar click of the keys grounding me in a way nothing else has lately.
“Where do I even start?”
“We could try the record label,” Tish says, leaning over my shoulder. “See if there’s a media contact or something.”
“Smart.”
As I open my browser, a pop-up notification flashes across the top of my screen. A Sam Stone alert. I set it up weeks ago, hoping for any shred of connection. But this one…
My heart stops.
“Charlotte?” Tish’s voice sharpens. “What is it?”
I swallow, staring at the headline like it’s a mirage. “He’s going on tour.”
Her brows lift. “Okay?”
“A farewell tour,” I say, spinning the laptop toward her. “It’s called Coming Home. Tickets go on sale today, and the first show in in two weeks!”
She still looks confused, so I scroll down and read thetour stops aloud. “Nashville. Oklahoma City. Denver. Broken Heart Creek. And—” My voice catches. “L.A.”
Recognition flickers in her eyes.
“Tish, this is a sign,” I whisper. “It’s everywhere I’ve ever lived. And places that matter to him.”
Understanding finally lands. Her mouth opens slowly. “Oh my God. This is it. This is how you find him.”
Tears sting my eyes, but this time, they don’t fall from despair. They fall from hope. Real, pulsing, terrifying hope. And I know exactly what I have to do.
Tish and I are poised like snipers the moment the tickets go live. Laptops open. Phones in hand. Refresh buttons abused.
“Nashville! I got us Nashville!” Tish practically screams, fingers flying across her keyboard like her life depends on it.
“I’ve got Oklahoma City!” I shout, heart thundering in my chest.
“Denver’s dicey—damn, not as close—but I snagged two! We might need to resale hunt for better seats though.”
“I got Broken Heart Creek!” I yell, nearly knocking over my water. “I got it!”
We’re breathless, beaming at each other like we’ve just hacked the Pentagon. But there’s one left. The big one.
L.A.
The final stop. His last show. The one that has to count.
As we wait for the L.A. ticket drop, Tish glances over at me, softer now. “Why do you think he’s ending it here and not… you know, Broken Heart Creek?”
I swallow, then murmur, “Because I’m here.”
She places a hand over her heart. “This is some damn Nicholas Sparks shit.” She wipes a pretend tear. “I hope they cast someone hot as hell to play me in the movie.”
I laugh, but my eyes are locked on the screen. “One minute,” I whisper, nerves thrumming.
The page loads. Then it lags. Then nothing.
